CHAPTER FOUR
K’las had
barely left the holodeck when the initial phaser fire struck the Qul’etlh, and she rolled in agony to
starboard.
He
snarled in rage, and then in pain, as the inertial dampeners failed to fully compensate
and he was thrown against the far bulkhead of the passageway. If he had been
built any less sturdily, he would not have arisen from the floor seconds later,
and lurched towards a comm panel—not that he ever reached it.
Despite
his relative youth, K’las was a veteran of many campaigns. As his vessel
absorbed a second blow, and then a third, he realized two things through the
pain of bruised ribs and limbs: First, that his fool of a commander Kerek had
been taken unawares in ship-to-ship combat; and second, that the Qul’etlh was in her death throes. It was
shameful; she had once been a mighty vessel, and to end like this...
Now we
shall both die in the service of an
imbecile, K’las thought.
The
door to the holodeck began to open, and then stopped abruptly about an eighth
through the cycle as power was again interrupted. In the span of a moment, both
the gravity and lights flickered, reestablished themselves, and finally, cut
out completely. Now operating in the dim of emergency illumination, K’las had
the presence of mind to lunge forward and grasp the handle of a maintenance
hatch, just before he would have been paralyzed completely by the ensuing
weightlessness.
Kaala
had managed to squeeze partway through the all-too-small opening. She hadn’t seen
him, of that he was certain, preoccupied as she was with escaping the holodeck.
For a long moment she strained with all her strength; and then sagged, gasping,
when it became apparent that all her strength wouldn’t be enough.
K’las
calculated carefully, and kicked off the bulkhead. He drifted, flailing, for a
second; then his zero-G training took hold and he tucked, focused on his
target.
His
aim had been true. He was able to grasp the open door firmly, even as Kaala
first started, and then snarled at his sudden appearance. Just then the ship
shook again; almost he lost his grip, but somehow managed to ride out the
blast.
“Kahless
smiles on us both, woman. I shall free you... uhhhHHHN...” he tugged at the
door, “and you will take me with you when you leave this dying hulk.”
Between
them, they managed to move the door an inch or so—just enough to free her.
Anticipating her attempt to kick away, K’las reached out and grabbed a handful
of her hair. It didn’t hurt much in the zero gravity, but she hissed in
frustration at his ability to guess her next move.
“Take
you where, fool?” she asked sullenly,
but obviously didn’t want to put up much of a fight. Kaala could have clawed
his eyes out had she really wished to do so; he was holding both her hair and
the door, and couldn’t fend her off at all. “This ship is doomed.”
This
time he yanked harder; she yelped, and flinched as he roared, “Do not quarrel
in a burning house, woman! Do you think me a fool like Kerek? You are Imperial
Intelligence; tell me which shuttle is modified to suit your covert
operations.”
She
smiled lazily. He was an excellent choice for a consort. It would be a
challenge to break him to her will, but if they escaped this situation, she
would triumph eventually.
“Scout
craft two, main cargo bay.”
With
that, he smiled, and let go of the door. As she desperately flailed to replace
his grip with her own, he calmly touched a series of buttons on the device at
his belt. The transporter effect cut off her curse for a moment, until...
...
she was able to complete it at their destination.
Gravity
reasserted itself with a vengeance, and she crashed unceremoniously to the
floor. K’las had better luck, probably because he’d known what was coming. He
avoided her thrashing limbs and slipped into the pilot’s seat of the craft.
“Codes,”
he demanded curtly, as he strapped on the chair’s protective harness.
There
was no time for a debate; she groggily gave him the cyphers that allowed him
access to the advanced functions on this specially equipped vessel—use and
knowledge of which, usually, no one but members of Imperial Intelligence were
permitted.
“Hold
on,” he told her.
As
he activated the remaining systems, she was finally able to gain her feet and
head slowly toward the other chair—not that she ever reached it.
In
a matter of a second or two, K’las, in succession: Fired the disruptors at full
power, blowing out the cargo bay door; switched from tactical to cloaking
shields and, finally; thrust the little ship into full impulse.
He
chuckled. “As the humans say, 'Fasten your safety belts.'"
It
was the last thing she heard before the back wall of the cockpit rushed forward
and struck her senseless.